


For better or for worse

by TFALokiwriter



Series: Shatnoy police au [2]
Category: Star Trek RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Police, Crimes & Criminals, Dead People, First Meetings, Gen, Humor, Partners in Crime, Post-Divorce, Pre-Slash, San Francisco, Serial Killers, Strangers to Friends
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-21
Updated: 2017-10-21
Packaged: 2019-01-20 06:39:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12427065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TFALokiwriter/pseuds/TFALokiwriter
Summary: Beginnings have a number of ways to be defined as the start of a story. How many beginnings does a beat cop have in the line of duty? A lot, on a yearly basis, that sometimes defies all reason. Cases have a  beginning and ending. Some cases don't have endings. Some cases briefly are on fire. This current seems as though it will be brief and unsolved. But is it reallybriefas he thinks? Doctor Nimoy likes to think not.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Imagine this as a TOS episode for visualization set on a 1960's Earth. This is simply for the looks they give each other. And also for the tone that I am trying to seek visually with the color. You might want to use the Night Gallery's episode 'she'll be company to you' for visualization help for Nimoy. Think of him a few years younger than that appearance.

"Nothing to see here!" Shatner waved off the growing crowd of bystanders. "Just your typical run of the mill corpse."

"Officer Shatner," Roddenberry appeared out of thin air from the group with a rather unhappy look. "I assigned you to desk duty."

Shatner looked off toward the man.

"What?" Shatner said. "You think my bad luck will invade this investigation."

"You're not on the case," Roddenberry said.

"I know," Shatner said. "I am just doing it for the lead investigator." he gestured off toward the rather graying haired, tall, well built man who was answering questions from the press with a oddly calm almost nothing demeanor about him. Answering as though he were a robot, too stiff, with his hands clasped together in front of himself. "I offered him a ride and---"

"A purse thief lead you here," Roddenberry said.

"Yes, captain," Shatner said. "He did."

"There are plenty of back up that can take care of protecting the crime scene," Roddenberry said. "Your last stunt has not aged well."

"That was two months ago," Shatner said.

"The family are still furious at you," Roddenberry said.

"What?" Shatner said, putting his hands on his waist. "Finding the bodies being eaten by rats and trying to solve the problem with a cat was awful?"

"You disrespected their body," Roddenberry said.

"How could I know they had a allergy with cats?" Shatner asked.

"Out of the crime scene," Roddenberry said, gesturing off outside from the press circle. 

"All right, all right," Shatner said. "Can't I just keep an eye on it?"

"You can, but you can't be involved," Roddenberry said. "you have two hours left of desk duty. Don't make me extend it."

"You can count me on that I won't," Shatner said, with a nod.

"Go," Roddenberry reiterated.

Shatner looked over to see a intrigued man from the corner of the crowd looking on toward the corpse. His eyes analyzing the scene and the uncovered body. The ME brought over a white sheet. Her eyes remaining hauntingly open staring at a poster on the wall across with a halfway open mouth with what appeared to be a smudge of blood on the corner of her mouth. The body was covered with the white sheet. The man had a matching brown suit with a vest on top a white shirt. Shatner made his way out of the crime scene  then got into his vehicle. The strange man's eyes followed Shatner's figure into the car. He took out a newspaper that he had been reading earlier. The newspaper was blocking the sighting of the window. On the newspaper, the date was September 8th, 1966. The news was rather mundane and typical in San Fransisco with drama that could only be beat by New York City. His hazel eyes were carefully studying the words on the white paper.

Shatner waited while the crowd thinned. He bided his time, carefully, reading the newspaper with scrutiny. He squinted at the fine text. The ME left with the deceased body then glanced over toward Shatner's car then hoped into the truck. The last few police cars left leaving Shatner behind. The strange man went under the rope coming right over to the crime scent. Shatner folded the newspaper placing it onto the passenger seat. He quietly closed the door making sure that it did not slam loudly against the metal. He didn't want to alarm the man. Shatner was in his mid thirties, thirty-three, if anyone asked him. He rubbed along the area where his ring had been on his finger. Where he normally wore a ring that now had a shaded color it. Shatner walked over toward the crime scene.  The strange man was observing what the lead detective hadn't bothered to look. The strange picked up a wallet and looked at it curiously. Shatner went under the rope. The way the professor like man looked at the crime scene made it seem that he was a admirer. Part of the case in some way.

"Hello," Shatner began. "I am Officer William--"

"Shatner of the San Fransisco Police department," he looked up toward him. "Doctor Nimoy, a professor at University of San Franscico. I am familiar to you."

"Really?" Shatner asked, raising a  thin eyebrow. "Just how much do you know?"

"In the past few years, you have gone from a promising plain clothed detective to a beat cop who has lead officers to dead ends that are very embarrassing," Nimoy said. "you enjoy trying to bring someone to justice, arresting them even, and you tend to work as a lone wolf."

"Not wrong," Shatner said, coming over to the chalk drawn form of the deceased. "it works best for me."

"Your previous partners always have a tendency to leave you one way or another why you've gone to a police beat where you do not need one," Nimoy said. The doctor stood up being taller than the former detective.

"I don't need one," Shatner said. "do you know anything about this case that the lead detective could use?"

"Not really," Nimoy said. "Your flunks had been a story to read in the morning until you dropped off the face of the earth."

"I didn't drop off the face of the earth," Shatner replied.

"Yes, you did," Nimoy said.

"Did not," Shatner shot back.

"You were hardly mentioned in the newspapers," Nimoy replied. "and you were hardly on the beat for two months ago."

"It was the cats and the mice," Shatner said.

"I overheard that discussion," Nimoy said. "I did not read about that incident."

"It was kept out of the papers," Shatner said. "I tampered with evidence. Evidence, doctor!" he turned away, emphasizing loudly, " **EVIDENCE**!" Shaking both of his hands in frustration and anger at himself. He turned back toward the doctor. "I should have been fired." he walked back and forth rubbing the back of his neck.

"But Captain Roddenberry didn't fire you," Nimoy said.

"He didn't," Shatner said, shaking his head once coming to a stop across from the man. "No idea why."

"Because you would go out and solve cases on your own as a Private Eye annoying the precinct," Nimoy said.

"I would," Shatner said, looking over with a smile toward the doctor. "nice to hear someone knows I am trying. Would you like to come downtown?" Shatner leaned against the dumpster by his side.

Nimoy looked up, visibly insulted.

"This is a copy cat," Nimoy said. "this crime scene was staged."  
  
 "No," Shatner said. "It can't be."  
  
"It is," Nimoy said. "a classic case of someone trying to sway the investigation. The previous crime scene was a one time. It was in self defense while this one was not."  
  
"Okay, tell me how you figured that out?" Shatner asked.  
  
"Easily enough," Nimoy said, putting the wallet into a bag along with a couple more evidence that had been overlooked. He placed it alongside the body. "The previous body was in a dead end. Alongside it was a pipe close to the woman's hand. Her shirt was ripped open in a way that someone would to themselves, ripped by the outside rather than the inside. She had a bite mark on her left arm from an altercation earlier involving their child. She was shot in the chest five times. The first time didn't work. She kept walking. The second shot, it was ignored. The third one struck her in the shoulder. She slowed down. The forth one landed somewhere in her chest. And the fifth hit her heart. She stopped in her tracks. She stared at her victim who became a survivor. She was a woman who was heavily disliked by most people around the city. She fell and landed to her side. The victim fled on foot and was not seen."  
  
"So she wasn't a city person," Shatner said.  
  
"That is the most believable explanation," Nimoy said. "and the one I think is true."  
  
"That crime scene was . . ." Shatner shook his head. "Never seen anything like it. Not as violent but so sudden and random," he rubbed the back of his neck. "Continue with your story, doctor."  
  
"She was growing mad being cooped up inside the apartment complex to take care of the child responsible for the bite mark. She had chased the father out of the house. The future she could have been living was taken because the young man did not wear protection. She was furious. She chased him down the street in the middle of the night. There will be no eyewitnesses to collaborate that," Shatner nodded. "She disappeared into the alley where her victim waited loading  a gun. Which explains the unfired bullets that were found at the scene." he came to the back end where there was only three bullets on the floor. "In his rush to load the firearms, he left two bullets." He used a pair of tweezers to put the evidence into the bag. "Your precinct should be collecting evidence if this is the second death."

"They have their reasons," Shatner said. Nimoy looked off toward the blonde, curly haired man.  
  
"What reasons are those?" Nimoy asked.  
  
"You got me there," Shatner said, waving his hands defensively with a shrug.

"I read about your divorce two months ago," Nimoy said. "Did she really leave you  over spoiled milk?"

"No," Shatner said. "She left me because I am interested in men and women.  Didn't take it too lightly."

"That had to be rough on you," Nimoy said. Shatner had a small nod.

"I made plenty of mistakes after the divorce," Shatner said. "I am just glad she didn't list it as a reason."

"We are on the same page," Nimoy said. "I am divorced."

"Really?" Shatner asked, skeptically. "Living comfortably in a well secured job far from investigating? Your life should be at a high point now."

"Ah ha," Nimoy said. "you are wrong."

"I am always right when it comes to people," Shatner said. "I used to be a good detective."

" _Used_ to be," Nimoy reminded Shatner. "you are biased. You are jealous of me."

"About what?" Shatner asked

"That I don't get tackled by a high profiled criminal on a day to day basis and have a steady life style," Nimoy said, coming over to the dumpster. He leaned against it holding the brown paper bag with the collected evidence. "and also, I look better than you."

"Ow, that hurts," Shatner said, jokingly.

Nimoy quirked a smile back at the beat cop.

"I use my skills all the time, Officer Shatner," Nimoy replied. "this crime scene will make an excellent lesson." He held the bag out.

Shatner slowly took the bag.

"I use my observation skills," Shatner said. "I find dead bodies. Often. On the beat."

"The newspapers say it is not that often," Nimoy said.

"I keep my presence out of those cases,"  Shatner said.

"Didn't you used to jump onto the windshields of fleeing criminals?" Nimoy asked.

"I did," Shatner said. "that was when I had a partner to rely on following me," he slowly turned toward the exit of the alley then made his way from the man. "and a much happier point in my life. That's gone, too." Nimoy followed after the man.

"You're depressed?" Nimoy asked, stopping the man in his tracks with a concerned expression on his face.

"Sad all the time?" Shatner asked, raising a eyebrow

"Uh huh," Nimoy nodded.

"No," Shatner said. "I like where I am at now." he shifted toward the chalk outline of the deceased then back in the direction of the man. "I think this was a crime of passion. Mad wife, cheating  husband. If he had a gun on him then why didn't he shoot earlier in self defense?" Nimoy considered that. "This woman was furious that he had cheated on her," Nimoy walked right past the man heading back toward his car. "Married five months and he cheated on her. The wife grabbed the first thing she could find, as her husband was a plumber, it was a pipe. A coincidence that it resembled the previous crime scene?" Nimoy opened his car door then looked over toward the rambling detective. "I think so."

"It's a copy cat," Nimoy insisted. "I doubt if it had been a different crime that it would have arrived here because of spouse cheating," he sat into the car. "Normally crimes of passion occur in the household, hotel, or  in a car alongside the road."

"Third crime won't be the same way if the serial killer is becoming more daring," Shatner said, darkingly, shutting the door on the doctor. Shatner patted on the roof of the car. "Have a good day, Mr Nimoy." Shatner smiled back, warmly, back at the man then walked away.

Shatner watched Nimoy drive the 1963 Buick Riviera from the crime scene while leaning against his patrol car.


	2. Chapter 2

Jeffrey Hunter was the kind of plain clothes detective that acted like a stale, serious mannequin when interviewing suspects. Filmsy, characterless paper. He was terrible at being undercover and mostly why he never volunteered as such. There was something about him that made people confess to him. Was it the paper quality? Staring at nothingness? It was as though he had been given a collection of papers and told that were his lines and his character lacked a certain warmth to the audience. He was good at his job. Always got his man, or sometimes, his woman.

"So the crime tech missed evidence?" Hunter said, taking the bag.

"Yes," Shatner said. "I mean, why would someone do that?"

Hunter looked at Shatner.

"We don't need a serial killer," Hunter said.

"Yeah, we don't," Shatner said. "and they crop up like the bad kind of weed when you least expect it."

"Bill," Hunter said. "If you tell the press that we have a serial killer on the loose, I am not going to confirm that."

"What?" Shatner asked, confused. 

"Nor is Roddenberry," Hunter said. "We don't need that kind of chaos."

"That's not fair," Shatner said.

"This is a standalone case," Hunter said. "and that's justice."

"Justice is being blind to politics, no matter how personal or how it effects the general public," Shatner said. "I may be self centered but this is a line I cannot cross. And if I get asked, I am reeling in a expert."

"And they won't agree with you," Hunter said. "This isn't the same crime. Please, for the precinct, don't think about it or talk about it."

"Is anyone we know part of the crime?" Shatner asked.

"No," Hunter said.

"Then I see no reason not to talk about it," Shatner said, then he walked away from Hunter. "See you later, Hunter!"

Hunter groaned, rubbing his forehead while leaning against the wall. He folded his arms with one hand pitching the bridge of his nose. Roddenberry rounded the corner then looked over to see the figure of the beat cop had gone through the doors. Roddenberry looked at the direction of Hunter with a 'humor me' expression on his face. Hunter shook his head in disappointment. Roddenberry's cigarette slowly went down from the corner of his mouth as puffs of smoke began to dim from the end. 

"I am afraid you have to be prepared for the press asking questions," Hunter said.

"No, no, no, no," Roddenberry said. "We haven't had a serial killer here. . since. . ." he looked back at his rough, scattered memory. "Let alone twenty-six years ago."

"Are you scared, captain?" Hunter asked.

"No, no, not at all," Roddemberry said. "I am just concerned about how the press is . . ."

"Going to react that a serial killer has entered town?" Hunter asked.

"Yes," Roddenberry said. "And everyone will be terrified. We can't be sure if this is  a copy cat. People taking justice into their own hands," Roddenberry took out his cigarette out then puffed out a ring of smoke. "He won't have the precinct to back him up when a member of the press makes a call regarding his investigation. If he launches one at all it will be on his own time. Let Bill make a fool of himself."

"What if it's a copy cat?" Hunter asked.

Roddeberry took a huff from the cigarette then looked on toward the doors and faced back toward Hunter.

"Then he is just getting started," Roddenberry said, then walked past Hunter. 


End file.
